


Twisted and Bent

by fangirl_feminista



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, i'm not a fan of that but there's that, wow i really don't know what got to me this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_feminista/pseuds/fangirl_feminista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck you, Smith.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>Nile is suddenly thrown. “Huh?”</p><p>“Who,” Erwin repeats, as composed as ever. He closes the distance between them in three deliberate steps. “Who’s gonna fuck me?”</p><p>[In which Erwin is a freak. Literally.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted and Bent

**Author's Note:**

> *Set right after the season 2, deviates from manga storyline. Marie doesn’t exist in this verse.

1. I should’ve shot that cheeky look off your face.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Nile bets that he does. He seriously thought he’s seen the last of Erwin Smith after he turned him over, handcuffed, to the royal judiciary council. After everything that went down in Stohess, there is simply no way Erwin was going to talk himself out of an execution. Nile indignantly blames himself for not knowing better than to underestimate that bastard’s smooth tongue.

“What kind of sleazy trick did you pull up your dirty ass again, Smith?” Nile growls. Erwin enters his office and calmly shuts the door behind him.

For a fleeting moment, Nile thinks he sees Erwin’s lips twitch upwards. Before he could decide what that meant, the bigger man clasps his shoulders and pushes him hard against the wall. He stoops down, leaving mere inches between their faces. He’s so close that Nile could feel his slow, deep breaths against his mouth.

“I’ve never seen you fear me, Dok. Certainly not when I was surrounded by your men,” Erwin says in a low, unnerving tone. “Then again, I’ve always known the Military Police is all bravado and no balls.” His expression is same as ever, a picture of detached determination, as if the proximity of their mouths is not doing to him what it’s doing to Nile. He can’t exactly name it—a heady mix of testosterone-driven aggression and testosterone-driven _something else_.

“Fuck you, Smith,” Nile snarled through his…unease. Well, he was never known for his eloquent tongue anyway. Not like pretty Commander Erwin Smith with his pretty commanding words. No, Nile has no need for that. He attempts to shove Erwin to the ground, but the bigger man is only thrown a few steps back.

Erwin dusts off his uniform where Nile touched it. The next string of expletives is about to come out of Nile’s mouth but Erwin beats him to it. “Who?”

Nile is suddenly thrown. “Huh?”

“Who,” Erwin repeats, as composed as ever. He closes the distance between them in three deliberate steps. “Who’s gonna fuck me?”

There are several ways Nile expected this confrontation to go, all of which end up with both of them injured. Nile even expected himself to be on the losing side. But he never expected this.

“Eh?” Again, Nile is not known for his quick wit.

In response, Erwin pulls Nile by the collar. Instead of being hoisted up and punched squarely in the face—which is probably a much more fortunate outcome in retrospect—Nile finds himself being pushed over his table. Before he could spit out any kind of protest, Erwin is on top of him.

“To think that I’ve already succumbed to such vulgarities,” Erwin murmurs, his face mildly perturbed. “I may have underestimated you, Commander.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nile blurts out, his voice breaking. “What—what the hell are you up to?”

Then, just as Nile is starting to get himself together, Erwin does something even more confusing—with a disturbingly innocent expression, he cocks his head to the side. “Wouldn’t you know, I’ve always been like this. You’re not entirely wrong about me.”

Erwin’s face drops, grazing Nile’s ear. The smirk that slowly creeps up on his lips makes Nile shiver.  “I’ve always been a _freak_.”

On pure instinct, Nile reverses their positions. “I’ve always known you Recon Corps shits have to be at least slightly crazy but fuck, you’re a whole new brand of crazy aren’t you.”

“Perhaps,” Erwin allows. “We go after one goal, and go with everything we have. And personally…”

Nile has to be imagining it, because there’s no fucking way Erwin Smith just glanced at his mouth and licked his lips.

“I’ve always gone after what I want.”

He should’ve seen it coming. Maybe it was age getting his senses rusty, or the sheer impossibility of the situation—which is apparently not so impossible since now Erwin’s mouth is on his, and that smooth-talking tongue is in his mouth. Erwin Smith has always outsmarted him, overwhelmed him, and somehow made him do as he bid. Which happens to be, as of the moment, kissing him back. Before Nile could even process the situation, their straps are off, some buttons missing, and their pants are gathered at their knees.

“Usually I fuck until I pass out but,” Erwin says, the tiniest hint of a smile on his swollen lips. “You have made my nights more interesting, Dok.” He pushes himself Nile off nonchalantly.

“Now I’d have to go back to my barracks with my hard cock cramped in my pants,” Erwin continues while zipping up. He turns his back on Nile and closes what buttons remain on his shirt. Nile is trying and failing not to stare at his ass as he bends down to strap a belt across his leg. “I wonder if any of my soldiers will notice.”

Nile focuses on composing himself as he follows him to the threshold. “Get out Smith,” he barks at Erwin as he heaves his door wide open.

“And you know what’s more interesting,” Erwin says, smiling civilly at Nile. “I’m so unsatisfied I might have to take care of myself before I sleep. I’m so unsatisfied I might wake up in the middle of the night and take care of myself even then.”

And this is exactly why Nile hates Commander Erwin Smith. His self-possessed demeanor, the insidious charisma with which he screws someone up, and—though Nile is not quite ready to admit it—the way he makes someone addicted to it. To _him_. Because now Nile knows all too well _what_ he’s going to dream of, and _who_ he’s going to dream of doing that with, because one night of curiosity and madness will never be enough when it comes to Erwin fucking Smith.

 

2\. Your bolo tie ain’t got nothing on mine, jackass.

Enough is enough. Erwin fucking Smith has no business usurping his arms, commanding his men, and undermining his authority. Nile could hear his blood pounding on his veins. The rage of adrenalin makes his fists itch, eager to ram into a certain bastard’s pretty face. The two guards posted outside Erwin’s door move to placate him but he doesn’t stop his approach. Before any of them could speak, he kicks the door open so hard that the hinges threaten to give.

Inside, Erwin is sitting behind his desk, one hand frozen in the act of turning a page. With absolutely no fear or shame, he looks straight at Nile. There are now four of the recon corps with their guns trained at Nile, but their commander also has three weapons aimed at him courtesy of the MP. There is no tension in Erwin’s shoulders as he motions for his men to close the door. Nile couldn’t have put it better himself, so he nods at his own men to leave them.

As soon as they’re alone, Erwin walks toward him until they are standing right in front of each other.

“I don’t usually explain my actions, but considering your rank and prerogative, I would do it now,” he says, infuriatingly unruffled to Nile’s ears. “I made that decision with a higher purpose in mind. Your pride is of lesser importance to me relative to the future of humanity.”

Nile is done with his cryptic words and signature insolence. “Do you see this?” he growls, grabbing the red clasp on his chest and shoving it to Erwin’s face. “I’m wearing a bolo tie no lesser than yours. You seem to have forgotten who I am. I’m Nile Dok, commander of the Military Police.”

Erwin takes the ornamental fastening from his hand. Nile expects him to forcibly pull it off, smash it under his feet, or even put it on and declare himself chief of both military divisions. Instead, Erwin thrusts his tongue out and slowly licks the smooth round surface, holding Nile’s eyes with a disconcerting gaze.

“Nile Dok,” he says casually. Then, he puts the whole gem in his mouth and sucks it lazily, before placing it back under Nile’s collar. “I haven’t forgotten.”

The motion is more than inappropriate—it’s downright _twisted_ —and Nile is shaken by how intensely aroused he is. Erwin has gotten under his skin, into his head, straight to his cock—all the things Nile would never admit.

In ways Nile never thought was possible, Erwin proves to him just how fond he is of their matching bolo ties.

 

3\. Who gives a crap about who’s in your bed? Not me.

Nile isn’t sure when his eyes started automatically following Erwin whenever they’re in the same room. What he does know is whenever he spots that blonde hair and self-possessed blue eyes, raven black and stolid gray almost always follow.

Erwin even has the guts to show up in his quarters, when he’s obviously not short of other welcoming beds, and that’s when Nile loses it. “You’re sleeping with that shitty-faced midget corporal of yours.” He is confused by the edge in his voice, which is exactly why he stubbornly forces his way through it. “Assuming you got enough man in you to fuck her, maybe even that titan-hugging four-eyes bitch.”

Erwin simply walks past him through the threshold and unclasps his cape. “I don’t recall saying I wasn’t,” he replies smoothly. “If I were, it would be quite an honor. Those two are among my best soldiers.”

“You always have the best answers, don’t you,” Nile growls, glowering at the man standing squarely at his bathroom’s doorway. He feels an ugly, insidious feeling rising to his chest. “Get out of my way.”

Erwin complies. Instead of leaving the room, he enters the bathroom and proceeds to wash his hands on the sink. Nile instinctively takes a step back.

“What. The fuck. Are you doing.”  
  
Erwin continues to perfunctorily wash his hands. “Levi particularly despises unclean hands,” he explains as he rubs them on the towel. “He would, to put it in his words, kick my ass if I tried to lay my filthy hands on him—“

Nile’s fingers clutch Erwin’s hair as he pins him to the sink with his body. He glares at his placid reflection on his bathroom mirror. “What does it look like, _Smith_ ,” Nile snarls into his ear. “Your icy pretty face when you cum.”  
  
“I wonder,” Erwin says lightly. “If you will ever see it.”

Nile meets no resistance as he shoves Erwin to his bathtub. 

 

4\. What the hell have you done to me?

They say a man’s inflated ego is the ultimate aphrodisiac, and if that’s true then Nile has never been so aroused in his life. Erwin Smith himself no less, the stoic and coldblooded commander who bends to no one and breaks at nothing, is lying below him, face flushed and breaths heavy.  
  
“Nile,” Erwin sighs as his fingers sink into the muscles of his shoulders. _Erwin Smith no less_. “Nile.”

 _Dammit_. Nile feels it deep in his bones, and now he understands just what overdramatic words like “burning desire” and “fire running in your veins” mean. His whole body is rushing to that one point where it all tips over and there is nothing but Erwin Smith and Nile Dok as everything else combusts to ash. Nile swore, on all his pride as commander he swore that Erwin would not hear him scream and yet this primal howl is ripping out of him as he comes, sinking into Erwin’s flesh.

Gradually, Nile’s vision clears. The room is dark but light filters through the slats on the windows to Erwin’s pale face. Nile has no idea if it’s night or day already but it doesn’t matter when the thought arises unbidden: _He’s beautiful_.

Nile’s brain snaps in place at once and he can’t peel himself off Erwin fast enough. Erwin’s half-lidded eyes widen for a moment before they return to their normal state, like he’s reading paperwork or reporting the latest death toll. Nile keeps his eyes on the sheets as he picks up his discarded clothes. There is no sound but the rustle of cotton and leather.

Nile doesn’t risk another look at Erwin, doesn’t see his face of chiseled ice as he puts his cloak back on. Wordlessly, soundlessly, he leaves Erwin's room as if he never came at all.

Nile doesn’t bother to change his clothes as he collapses on his hard mattress. His mind mercifully blank, until exhaustion settles on his limbs and he finally falls asleep.

 

5\. Stay alive because I love hating you.

“The expedition begins tomorrow at 9, from the South gate. All preparations are complete. Each of you has a copy of the final agenda—“

Nile has never understood it. Going outside the walls, facing the titans in their territory to gather trivial intel and waste countless lives, the whole idea of a recon corps, any of it. This is all a waste of the council’s time, time which could be spent improving the lives of humanity’s last survivors.

“In case the chain of command is disrupted permanently, the restructuring plans for the Scouting Regiment have been submitted and approved,” Erwin goes on, as if he were stating routine instructions.

As if he weren’t talking about what to do in case he dies on the field.

Nile doesn’t know what took over him when he stayed behind after every council member has gone, when only Erwin is left arranging his materials and notes. He doesn’t know why he feels fury rising from his gut, why his head feels like a ton of lead. And when Erwin looks at him and his impassive composure flickers for a moment, he doesn’t know why he wants to close the distance between them.

There is no sense to this, and yet Nile says, “Show me what’s out there that your briefs are such in a twist to get to it.”

Nile has never been outside the wall. He’s seen the majestic view—wide, open plains, endless blue skies, possibilities beyond the horizon ready to trap you in its bloody claws. He’s seen it, and turned his back without hesitation. He is, after all, a very practical man. But now his steps are quick and decisive, eager to know what it’s like out there, eager to understand Erwin—

It’s absolute insanity. Maybe it’s just a fit of morbid curiosity, or an egoistic drive to conquer the mystery of Erwin Smith. All Nile knows is that every step he takes beyond the wall is a step that closes the distance between them.

“This is of no concern to you,” Erwin says, his back to him. “You’ve made that clear.”

Nile can’t take any more of it. He seizes Erwin’s cape and turns him around, then he grabs his collar in tightly clenched fists. “Listen up, Smith,” Nile sneers between gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare go back as titan puke.”

Erwin is untroubled, making no move to return his aggression. “Well, if I die out here, I’d much rather stay out here,” he says evenly.

“Don’t.” Nile hates that it almost sounds like he’s begging. “Just fucking don’t.” Because one day, Erwin’s wings would fail him and he would come crashing down, either to some titan’s belly or the Military Police’s corrupt hands. Nile is disgusted by his fear, and Erwin’s apparent lack of it. If Erwin pities him for this, Nile might never be able to forgive him.

But Erwin doesn’t push him away or laugh at him. Instead, he places his lips at the base of Nile’s neck and sucks, _hard_. “Then,” he murmurs, before licking the sore spot. “You better give me a damn good reason to go back, Dok.” 

As he glares at the insignia on Erwin’s broad back, his callused hands pressed on the crumbling wall, and the points where their bodies connect, Nile begins to understand. One day, titans or no, these walls would crumble and their rotting corpses would be fed to the soil. For now, Nile still has some time to hate(fuck) Erwin Smith.


End file.
